The loose refuse twinkles with dewy drops – sparkly garbage ornaments decorate every alley.

Everyone is lazy, slowly moving, barking less, smiling more.  They look scrubbed and fresh too as though they spent the night under a downspout.

The air, fresh and suffused with richness, shook clean of dust, odor, and heat. The breeze plays it cool.

Filaments of sharp, crisp, verdant smells are layered over a rich earthiness.

Feet have trampled the casualties, melting them into a carpet of pink blossoms, a tribute to the wind, a cushion for my soul.

Mud tracks, previously roads, gush with silty water making sandy, dusty swirls as the sun bakes their waters to steam.

A drip drop is all that is left.  Enough to quench no thirst but my ear, wanting to hear, for one moment more, the  rain song.